


I Can't Wait

by CowboyBiBoh



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Military, College, College AU, Erotica, Gay Sex, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Smut, M/M, Shatt, Short, Short Chapters, Smut, blowjob, college hookup, hinted Shatt, hookup, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboyBiBoh/pseuds/CowboyBiBoh
Summary: That classic retro love-story: Guy spills drink on guy in bar, guy tries to find guy the next day over the radio, guy actually finds guy, and they fuck. Voltron College AU, short & sweet.





	1. Lance

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is a WIP I work on when my (non-fanfic) novel is giving me headaches, so updates will be sporadic. If you're looking for something longer and complete and chock-full of sex, please check out my canon-adjacent work All Cats Are Gray in the Dark and the sequel, All Cats Are Gray in the Dark 1.5: The Real Holt Blues. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy. This idea sparked into my head while listening to the song Blushy, by ABSRDST.

* * *

 

LANCE

“This one’s for the lovebirds out there,” Lance cooed into the microphone, hoping it didn’t pick up the thumping of his heart. “It’s inspired by the gorgeous brunette I met last night at The Dutch, with hair that was party in the back and looks to kill. I fell on you once, but let’s chalk that up to falling _for_ you.”

He took a deep breath, knowing that this was both his entire plan and the most terrifying thing he’d done in a good long time. “If that was you and you’re…interested, you know where to find me.”

He hit play, and the song that had been seared into his brain slithered onto the airwaves, blasting out to the whole campus. He took his headphones off, ruffling his hair with his hands.

His radio show was popular enough, but was it popular enough to act as a missed connection?

They’d met when Lance’d been boogieing backwards, and danced right into him; he’d been lounging against a pillar, and when Lance apologized he’d just glared daggers and walked away.

“No apologies, asshat?” Lance’d shouted, knowing it was his own damn fault they’d collided.

They met again at the bar, two-deep in the crowd for drinks. The Dutch, lovable cesspool that it was, had gotten unbearably hot, so it took Lance a good long moment to realize those sculpted shoulders and smooth biceps framing the whipcord torso in an honestly terrible black T was the same guy he’d so unceremoniously tripped over before.

It also took him a moment to realize the throbbing in his chest wasn’t due to being pissed off, but something entirely different.

Something that had to do with…his cologne. His shitty hair that curtained his shitty expression.

An expression Lance, for some reason, wanted desperately to kiss from his face.

“Gonna fall on me again, asshole?”

_Damn, he’s prettier when he doesn’t speak_ , Lance thought. “Gonna walk away again?”

_What?_

“What?”

“I…um,” he started, but the bartender caught his eye, and so he ordered his round before he lost the chance forever.

By the time he looked back, the other man was gone, the bass of this new top 40 hit echoing through the emptiness that was his chest. Lance wound around the dance floor and as many of the tables as he could see, but all he got for his efforts were Hunk and Pidge’s complaints for taking too long to bring them their drinks.

He wished he hadn’t ordered them at all, if it meant he’d lost all…that.

He stayed up all night, tossing and turning. Was there a way to find him? The town around the Garrison wasn’t huge, but an army and a school in the same town meant there were a lot of folks coming and going at any given time. That gorgeous, violet-eyed man might be gone to him forever.

Unless…it was worth a shot.

He sighed, picking up his headphones again, listening to the same single over again, pushing his phone around the desk, as if waiting for that guy to text him. If only he’d given him his number…

_Bzzzzzt._

Lance froze, hardly wanting to turn over his phone. Had he…somehow…?

He checked it.

HUNK: Who is she?

PIDGE:He

HUNK: He?

PIDGE: He.

_Damn her senses_ , Lance thought, putting the damn thing on Do Not Disturb. So as not to get his hopes up.

But his hopes were already up, sky-high. They always were, at the beginning. For some, it was a gesture he fell in love with: the way she flipped her hair out of her face with more expedience than grace; the way he drank his coffee, as if the cup could fall from his relaxed hand at any moment. For others, it was more superficial: a pretty face, long legs, sculpted muscles.

It had been this man’s glare; the way his hard eyes still held some softness within, a vulnerability bricked in steel.

What Lance wouldn’t do to tear down those walls.

The song ended, and he played another; another after that. He looked out the window every so often, to see if the man had figured it out, if he’d somehow managed to get into the production booth to watch Lance record.

But, no.

Some fantasies were meant to be abandoned.

Lance cleared out as the next DJ came in, too busy swiping through the banter between Hunk and Pidge on their group chat to really say hi to her.

“I hope you find who you’re looking for,” she said, and for a moment he paused, confused.

Then he remembered.

“O-oh, yeah, thanks.”

He left as quickly as he could after that, cheeks burning. He’d laid himself out, said something so _tacky_ on a program that did actually have a listenership—he’d never live it down. At best, he’d be teased about it the rest of his life, with it brought up and trotted out at reunions and class gatherings in association with his name. ‘ _Remember that time Lance tried to find some dude over the radio?_ _And no one showed up—must notta been that special, eh?’_

_Fuck_.

He trotted down the stairs and stared forward on the way to the door, refusing to meet the eyes of the station staff, _what would they even think? How can I possibly come back on Monday—_

And promptly knocked the wind out of himself, running into a…an outstretched arm?

Coughing, he looked up.

Straight into violet eyes.


	2. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith doth protest too much, methinks.

* * *

 KEITH

It was unfair.

He’d been miserable, pleasantly so, the party and the scene as garbage as he thought it’d be, the music too loud and too cliché, the beer too expensive. So many kids from the college, so many who were probably underage. It stank, and the carpet (who puts carpet in a shitty bar?) sucked at his shoes, and though he was worried he’d be stuck there forever if he didn’t move, he was determined to lurk. He’d sulk and stare at Matt and Shiro with “told-you-so” rays until they could leave, so at least they’d know how miserable he was.

But, as usual, Matt didn’t seem to care. The whole thing had been his idea, and Shiro had cajoled Keith into coming, so he’d have a buddy and a reasonable excuse to bail once the whole thing got too lively for the both of them. Matt had been down lately, and Shiro wanted to do his best to cheer him up—and there he was, doing his old-guy shuffle on the dance floor as Matt danced drunkenly, wildly in front of him, grinning at everyone, charming them all at once even as he never left Shiro’s side. Keith was shocked that Shiro was so blind to Matt’s crush on him, but Keith wasn’t about to clue him in. _Especially_ if he kept dragging him to shitty clubs like this.

It was starting to occur to him that if they dated, Keith _wouldn’t_ get dragged to the clubs to be the chaperone/third wheel, when he was slammed back into the pillar holding him up. Some tan skinny kid had fallen into him, _onto_ him, and…

…and…

…he had…

…the most gorgeous blue eyes.

 _Fuck_.

Keith pushed him off and stalked off, feeling himself get hard even as he tried to brush the droplets of beer off his jacket. The kid called after him and he didn’t look, didn’t dare turn around.

It wasn’t supposed to turn into that kind of night.

Not at this shitty club, not in this shitty mood.

But the kid’d had a baby face, with smooth skin and just the hint of some freckles on his nose…

No, he was probably some child from the university, snuck in on a fake.

And he’d been flashing some sort of goofy smile…

Well, he was probably easily amused, wowed by his first time in a real club.

Fuck, since when was The Dutch a real club?

And since when did he get so messed up over random dudes?

He sniffed his jacket, and sighed. He’d definitely have to get it dry cleaned, and that shit was expensive.

“You okay? I saw that kid barrel into you,” Shiro said, pulling up next to him.

“I’m…look, it’s whatever.”

Shiro stopped his godawful shuffle and really looked at him, at his jacket and his mood. He’d always been so good, _too_ good at peering into Keith’s mood, into reading him.

But not any good at figuring out desire.

“I’m sorry, Keith. You’ve been ready to go for a while…we can get out of here.”

Keith looked up to his friend, just in time to see him glance over at Matt with a twinge of his lips, a moment of hesitation.

_Oh._

“No, Shiro, it’s okay. I could…use another beer anyway. We can stick around a little longer.”

The smile Shiro gave him was entirely, utterly unfair.

“Okay. Come find me after you’re done and we can go.”

“Don’t worry about it—you stick around as long as you like. I’ll see you at muster tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, enjoy yourself.”

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder and wandered back onto the dance floor, and Keith sighed. He was happy for his friend, but…couples were insufferable, and it seemed like everyone was coupling off these days.

But as long as Shiro was happy, it’d…be fine.

Keith washed his jacket off as best he could in the bathroom, and kept it off, wondering why he’d even worn it to this sweaty hellscape in the first place. People swarmed the bar, but if nothing else, he wanted to get drunk enough to put the events of the night away from his mind long enough to make it into bed, to fall into blissful sleep. 

Fate, however, had a sense of humor. There was that gorgeous boy, standing at the bar, not two shoulders-lengths away. Keith could reach out, could introduce himself, say something, but…what? ‘I forgive you for knocking into me, so what say you and I get out of here, go home, and fuck until we literally can’t anymore’?

He shook his head, avoided eye contact. Better that way.

And then, their eyes met.

“Gonna fall on me again, asshole?” The words slipped from his mouth before he could think them through, before he could realize his lame joke sounded awful accusatory. The gorgeous dude’s already narrow eyes became slits.

“Gonna walk away again?”

“What?” Keith said, the speaker system drowning out the other man’s words. And then he turned to order, ignoring Keith completely.

Even Keith could take a hint.

He sped out of the bar, getting home in record time and jumping in the shower to rub one out so he could _think_ again.

About anything but that lithe body and narrowed eyes.

He woke that morning for muster, sneaking in right before as he tried to avoid the shit-eating grin he was sure he’d see on Shiro’s face for as long as possible. But Shiro’s expression was normal, as was Matt’s—either they’d gone home alone, or they were _very_ good actors.

Morning was drills as usual, but Keith snuck off to the courtyard for lunch, wanting the sun and nature to take his mind off things. There were a few cadets with a picnic, but they were easily avoided. He just wished they turned down that damn radio of—

“…inspired by the gorgeous brunette I met last night at The Dutch, with hair that was party in the back and looks to kill. I fell on you once, but let’s chalk that up to falling _for_ you… If that was you and you’re…interested, you know where to find me.”

His heart stopped.

He approached the laughing cadets, pretending not to notice how they quieted and straightened up. _Whatever_.

“Oh, so-sorry. Is our radio too loud?”

“A little,” he wouldn’t pass up a chance to tell them the truth, “but I was wondering what show that was.”

The cadet on the end looked like he was about to make a joke, but the girl to his right put a hand on his shoulder, curbing him. “It’s from the University—the Lance McClain Show.”

 _Lance McClain_.

He hadn’t heard of him, but now he could put a name to the face and figure that had haunted his dreams. _Lance_.

It fit him.

“Thanks. Keep it down a bit.”

“Will do,” the first one said, as Keith stalked off toward his motorcycle. It would be short work to make it to campus, but it might be harder to figure out where the radio station broadcasted from. Surely they had an information desk.

He had to get there before he second-guessed himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well unsurprisingly this is becoming longer than just a quick & dirty lay, but it won't end up anywhere near All Cats length. Thanks for all the comments and kudos, it's been wonderful to have many of you back, and hello new readers! Your feedback means a lot to me. Enjoy chapter 2!!


	3. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets in over his head...and likes it.

* * *

LANCE

 

“You must be Lance,” the violet-eyed man said, making eye contact. In the fluorescent light of the crappy school building the guy looked less severe, but it wasn’t a bad look on him. There was a softness there, a weariness, as though he’d rather spend all that effort he used on putting up walls around him on just about anything else.

Lance straightened, looking around to see if anyone else had seen the interaction. Luckily, the entry hall was abandoned. Someone, somewhere, must be looking out for his dignity.

“You…you actually came,” Lance said, and the other guy cocked his head. “I-I mean, that is, you did hear—”

“I did.”

“I…do you listen regularly?”

“No,” the black-haired (as Lance now saw) guy’s answers were curt, to the point.

“Then, how…why…”

“Do you want me to go?” The guy said, pushing himself off the wall and shaking out his jacket.

“NO! No, I just…didn’t expect this to work.”

“It’s a small town,” the other guy said, shrugging. “And you got lucky.”

“Yeah, huh. Great. I…great.” Lance gulped, searching around for…something. “Do you…wanna go grab coffee or something?”

To his surprise, the other man smirked; bemused, not cruel. “Here I thought we’d just speed off to my place and fuck.”

_Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_

Lance’s brain was relieved of duty as his blood rushed down to the captive prison of his jeans. “I…mean…”

“But yeah, coffee or something sounds good,” the guy said, turning to walk out the door. Lance took a few stiff steps before his word-forming capacity rebooted.

“H-How can you suggest coffee after…I mean, yeah, coffee’s great, but did you mean…” he stuttered, realizing his thought-processing functions weren’t quite online. The other guy chuckled, walking down the rambling sidewalk to a bike that was quite illegally parked in the middle of the one-lane campus road. He picked the helmet up off the handlebars, and offered it to Lance.

“You down? Or do you want me to buy you dinner first?”

Lance looked at the helmet, a sharp-looking number he assumed to be top-of-the-line gear, that had seen a few years of wear but was in overall good shape. The bike, too — Lance wasn’t ever a gearhead, but the black and red chassis gleamed in the few rays of sunlight that peeked through the clouds. The guy kept his gear in top shape, but…

He studied the other man, taking in as much as he could, knowing the clock was ticking. His hair was a mess, an honest-to-goodness mullet in this day and age, though it looked like he rocked it due to carelessness over conscious choice. His jeans were ripped the old-fashioned way, his jacket scuffed and worn. The bags under his eyes could be used to brew some strong tea.

How could a guy take such good care of his stuff, but so little care of himself?

_A guy_.

“Do I get to know your name first?”

“Keith,” he said, and jerked the helmet toward Lance again.

Lance took a deep breath.

And took it.

Keith nodded and kicked one leg over the bike as Lance fumbled with the heavy thing, feeling like an astronaut as the bulk settled around his ears.

“Why don’t we go to my place? It’s only across campus.”

“Scared of bikes?” Keith said, giving Lance the once-over in a less friendly way.

“What? No! I’m not scared of bikes.”

“Then get on.”

“You gotta problem with my place?”

“I’m not gonna fuck some dude in a dorm.”

_WOW where to start with this asshole_

Keith had started the bike and was waiting for Lance, who threw his leg over the seat and mounted up.

“Some dude?! First of all—”

“Scoot up.”

“—my name is Lance, which I _know_ you know…what?”

“Scoot up, you’re too far back.”

Lance paused, knowing that the guy would feel how hard both Keith and the bickering had made him. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

But then he thought for a moment, just a second, about those angry eyes looking up at him as that smirking mouth was otherwise occupied, and…

He scooted up, holding Keith at his taut waist. _Damn_.

“Just go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm so glad everyone is loving this silly little story! Thanks for your comments & kudos, they always make my day!


	4. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good friend, an awkward situation, and a whole lotta kissin'.

* * *

 

KEITH

The ride to his apartment was excruciating.

Not only for the fact of the kid’s painfully obvious erection jabbing him in the ass way before it was time for such behavior, but for the anticipation dashed with shame. What the hell was he doing, picking some kid up from college in broad daylight for some afternoon delight? And missing drills for it, no less? He’d asked Shiro to cover for him without telling him why, and Shiro, damn him, _did_. He didn’t press Keith, hadn’t asked. Just nodded and sent him dashing off, speeding away on his bike so he could catch the local college DJ as he left the recording booth.

Either this was the world’s crappiest rom-com, or he was a fool.

No, scratch that, it could be both.

But, he amended, as he took a turn in the road that had Lance’s arms tense around his waist, he hadn’t been rejected.

Which only made them both fools.

Keith parked the bike and only unsnapped his chin strap before grabbing the kid’s arm and hauling him up the stairs, ignoring his sputtered protests. It took him three wildly uncool tries to open the door, and once he got it he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just left the keys in there, slamming it behind them and wrenching off his helmet.

Lance just stood, dumbstruck.

Keith thought for a moment about slowing it down, helping him with his helmet, offering him a glass of water…but he’d risk losing his nerve, and having this spontaneous hookup end in an awkward fully-clothed movie watching session on the couch.

No.

It was time for action.

He moved to Lance, grabbing his ass and rolling his eyes at the unintelligible exclamation Lance was trying to string together as he brought his hands around front, tugging the button on his jeans open. He pushed the waistband down, showing a more athletic cut in his hips than Keith might have guessed, when Lance pushed him away.

“C-C’mon, man. Aren’t…,” Lance started, not meeting Keith’s eyes. “Aren’t we gonna…y’know…kiss first?”

Three things became readily apparent to Keith:

1) He’d just picked up a college student and taken him to an unknown location;

2) He wasn’t the only one nervous about the whole situation; and,

3) He had a romantic on his hands.

So he took a second, took a breath. Ran a hand through his hair. Sighed.

Smiled.

He stepped back to Lance, sliding his hands instead under his chin. New stubble poked through otherwise smooth skin, roughing Keith’s knuckles as he clicked open the strap. He helped Lance lift the heavy helmet off, and took it from him once he was freed, his hair a mess and his eyes nervous, but steeled. This was a challenge he wasn’t about to back down from.

Good. Neither was Keith.

He brushed one side of Lance’s chin, tracing his sharp jawline, wondering how it might fit into the palm of his hand. Placing his other hand on the other side of Lance’s face, he took a long drink of those skyblue eyes before shutting them out and going for the kiss.

As first kisses went, it left a lot to be desired. The kid still seemed a little shell-shocked, though he’d closed his eyes. They were still closed as Keith pulled back, waiting. Eyelids fluttering, breath coming quick. Nervous.

C’mon, hadn’t he been the one to initiate? Sending out that wildly public missed-connection. Where was all his spunk from the night before?

Keith kissed him again, stepping into it, letting his assertive lips open the other man’s mouth. He slid his hands down Lance’s front, peeling his jacket away as he stepped forward again, pushing Lance back and eating up the ceded territory. Lance awkwardly grabbed at Keith’s pants, his hips, but his hands were too loose, unable to find traction. His feet too found no purchase, and before long he was pinned against the wall, and kissed within an inch of his life.

“Was that kissing enough for you?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving your comments! Thank you so much—as always, I appreciate the kudos and shares! And for those of you who are anxious for the sex to start, do check out my longer work, All Cats Are Gray in the Dark!


	5. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is in way over his head...but it's Keith who's really in hot water.

* * *

 LANCE

 

Lance could barely breathe. Sweat coated his palms, try as he had to wipe it anywhere he could find. His dick was hard, smashed against his zipper and against that of Keith, whose hands were roaming wherever they damn well pleased, including straight under his shirt.

This was a war of nerves, and Lance was losing.

He’d thought he’d maybe meet this guy for coffee, get to know him, and come back with him after for a make-out session couched in the invitation to watch a movie. He hadn’t been ready to go so hard, so quick.

Or rather, his brain hadn’t been ready.

He was still reeling, as the other man slid his thumb over his nipples, which were rock-hard with the cold and anticipation. The touch made him shiver, and he moaned as Keith pinned him with lips to his neck, and fingers roaming along his waistline, skimming his hem.

Meeting in the front, and tugging hard.

Lance gasped and pushed forward, breaking Keith’s hold. He wasn’t just gonna go down like that, without doing anything about it.

He wasn’t just gonna get _made_.

So he did the classic little-guy move and…well, no, he didn’t kick him in the dick (that’d defeat the point, wouldn’t it?), but he did shoulder-check Keith, making just enough space to escape.

But Lance wasn’t planning to run.

He smashed into Keith instead, his pent-up lust and frustration driving him like a sixteen-wheeler into the other man, and suddenly it was _his_ hands on top, _his_ fingers sliding along collarbones and down pecs and _damn this dude was ripped, what’d he do, work out for a living?_ And then the hesitation that he didn’t actually _know_ , that Keith was some dick with a bike who just made him feel all sorts of ways and _what the fuck, man?_

By the time Lance’s thoughts had recovered, so had Keith. He tore Lance’s hands away from his zipper, which made Lance feel awful until he realized Keith was doing the work himself, pushing his pants and jet-black _boxer-briefs jesus fuck_ down his thighs, his dick saluting the sky with a rigidity Lance was sure his own was echoing.

_Well?_ Keith seemed to say.

Except, he had said it. Lance blinked at that cool smirk and the twinkle in those beady eyes, then back down at his cock.

And dove.

The man wanted a blowjob? Fine. He was going to give him one so good he’d regret asking.

He just hoped he’d be ready for a good fucking after.

Without a word of preamble he dropped to his knees and took Keith’s cock full on into his mouth, lavishing as much as he could fit with his slick spit. He rubbed his tongue against the folds, searching for the skin beneath as Keith’s hands came to violent rest in his hair.

So, he must be doing something right.

He clamped his lips around the shaft and bobbed, only a little at first, letting the little sensations be counterpoint to the forwardness of it all. But as Keith’s hips twitched, Lance dipped farther, the tip knocking into the roof of his mouth. He’d never been particularly good at getting dicks in deeper, but he’d be damned if he let that on.

Even so, he needed a breath, and arched his back as he let the cock pop from his mouth, mimicking what he’d seen in porn, the lithe young men being used and adored in ways he couldn’t comprehend and wasn’t sure he liked, and yet wanted to try, to see if he could evoke such need in another.

Meeting Keith’s eyes for just a moment, he realized he could.

So he went down again, up and down, licking the whole shaft, wetting it down, taking the balls between his lips and sucking and rolling and slurping as he could, pressing his chest against the mass of fabric at Keith’s thighs, the belt-buckle cold against the ‘v’ of Lance’s shirt. Pressure was the key; pressure and timing and that slow build.

Lance had plenty of time to practice on his own, between partners.

Plenty of time.

So let this egotistical jackass suffer; let his pleasure build and build and build and build past his breaking point, let it be ripped from him so hard the smirk slides from his face along with all his pretension and posturing. Lance was sure he’d have him begging for more, have this guy calling him the god of sex before this was all well and done.

He wasn’t prepared to be yanked up and towed into a bedroom, with Keith slamming the door behind. Lance started to protest and found a hand clamped tight over his mouth. All pretension was surely gone from Keith’s face, but not because of anything Lance had done.

Keith cocked his head, as if listening, for…there, keys in the door.

They locked eyes.

“Shit,” Keith said, his voice quiet and hard. “My roommate’s home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience during that little hiatus! I was out having minor surgery. I'm back and cleared for active fanfic duty, so here's the next chapter! Thanks for all the kudos & comments, your words give me joy!


	6. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't meet your doom with your dick out.

* * *

  
KEITH

Keith cursed.

Not aloud, of course—in his mind, where he did all his speaking. Usually it was to himself, working through his problems and shutting down his insecurities. At the very moment, however, it was cycling through every swear word and phrase he could think of, because this was the last thing he’d ever expected.

Shiro was home.

Would he know Keith was there? Of course—his motorcycle was in his spot, his helmet on the floor…

_No_ , he thought, wincing internally. _Helmets_.

Even Shiro wasn’t that oblivious. He’d know that Keith had skipped out for the day to bring someone else home…

“Keith?” He called, and Keith winced. The kid looked wide-eyed, and Keith realized he had to choose: try to hide his lover— _lover? Hookup_ —or cop to it and hope for the best. Shiro would probably appreciate that Keith’d moved on from his own crush on Shiro, but that didn’t change the fact that this was awfully bad optics. Shiro’d always been so understanding of Keith’s behavior, and had stuck up for him more than once (okay, many times) to the brass, but the only time he’d ever been truly mad were when Keith had done something to risk Shiro’s integrity.

As he had now.

He clapped Lance on the shoulder and proceeded to start buttoning himself up as Shiro’s footsteps neared, refusing to meet his doom with his dick out. “Hey, Shiro.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yup—I…,” and Keith looked desperately around his room, trying to find something that could lend itself to an excuse, that would get Shiro off his back before Keith got busted and he totally lost his chance at a hot fuck with this alluring stranger.

But his sparse closet offered nothing, nor did his spotless desk, nor the chin-up bar above his door, nor…

Wait, there. Next to his bed.

But—

Could he say it in front of this kid, who’s mischievous streak told Keith he’d never live it down?

Shiro’s footsteps stopped on the other side of the door, and he was out of time.

He grimaced.

“I guess…I just needed some… _self-care_ , Shiro.”

Lance looked flabbergasted.

“Self-care…? You took time off for…oh!” And the joy in his voice shot through Keith’s heart like an arrow. “You mean, you finally decided to do therapy?”

Keith looked at Lance, his head cocked like a puppy, his pants still sagging from where Keith had pulled them down. Had anyone ever looked more fuckable? “Yeah, I guess so.”

“That’s great, Keith! Take it easy, then—I was just coming home to pick up my laptop. I won’t ask how it went, but…” and here Shiro’s voice got softer, like velvet; the care in it evident. It’s what had driven Keith wild through the years, though Shiro had made it clear he thought of Keith only as his charge and mentee. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah.” Keith sighed. “Don’t let me keep you—I’m sure Iverson’ll have your hide if you’re late.”

“That he will,” Shiro agreed, and padded away. Lance’s breath eased, though his brows were knitted together as he chewed on his lower lip. Keith stood statuesque, waiting as he heard Shiro come in and out of his room, as he grabbed something from the fridge (some sort of horrible green juice, knowing Shiro), and left. It wasn’t until Keith heard the lock thunk in the door that he sighed, his tension deflating him like a popped balloon. He was safe.

And then he saw the look in Lance’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have sinned....I have left you all hanging for two weeks. Enjoy this latest installment. I'll try to post the next one much sooner!


	7. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conventional wisdom says, don't blow your therapist.
> 
> Keith says otherwise.

* * *

LANCE

 

“ _Self-care?!_ ” Lance said, the words out of his mouth before he could think them through. As usual. It was like his subconscious had control of his tongue and thought conversations were quick-time events, better the faster he was.

Keith’s dark look made most of Lance regret his words.

Most, since his dick had re-stiffened.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Keith said, stripping off his jacket. Lance shrugged.

“Try me.”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“According to you? Yeah,” Lance said, and that made Keith pause, balanced in the middle of wrenching off a shoe.

“Whatever, just…forget that happened.”

“Who was that guy?” Lance said, crossing his arms. Keith chucked his other shoe into his closet, and started stripping off his shirt. Lance’s breath hitched. He’d thought Keith was just some skinny bastard, not skinny because he was _ripped to all hell_. Lance’d been proud of his taut stomach, but that was before he’d seen all of…well, fuck, all of _that_ in front of him. How many abs were even possible on a human body? Or was this dude an alien? Some secret life-form they were keeping in the base down the road?

“My roommate, Sgt. Shirogane,” Keith said, and started to unbuckle his pants before he turned back to Lance, his eyes still hard. “You gonna fuck with your clothes on?”

Lance had barely registered before Keith was again in front of him, hands bunching his shirt as he slid it up Lance’s torso, stripping the material over his arms and head and throwing it down to the floor. And then his lips were again on Lance’s neck, but now there was skin-to-skin contact. Keith ran warm, his chest misted with sweat in the pre-summer heat, his musk near enough to drive Lance wild.

So when Keith’s lips found his, he let go, driving into Keith, fiddling with Keith’s pants until he could push them down and free his dick, still hard but sticky where he’d been lavishing it just minutes before. So he tugged, and pulled, and tugged and pulled, starting down from the base and loosening his grip as his hand traveled, varying strength and sensation, finding a rhythm, getting into the groove of—

— _HOLY SHIT_ Keith’s hand was somehow on his own dick, and the sensation sent electricity sparking through his hips and between his legs and up his spine and damn near throughout his whole damn nervous system. He was close.

How? They’d just started.

And yet the feel of Keith’s calluses was more pleasurable than any masturbator he’d ever used, including his own familiar hand. Maybe it was just the setting, the novelty of being picked up by some _rando_ he’d met in a club in broad daylight, then riding his _motorcycle_ back to his apartment to _have sex_ and holy fuck holy _fu—_

“S-Stop,” he breathed, and Keith relaxed his hand, Lance’s dick dancing as it twitched above it.

“That close already?”

“Sh-Shut up.”

“It’s flattering, honestly,” he said, and Lance looked up, into a lopsided grin that nearly fucking killed him. It melted him to his core. His heart was jelly and his brain was mush.

And somehow he was on his back on the bed, with Keith lowering his head down, down.

“Don’t hold back,” he said, his lips against Lance’s still-twitching head, before lowering his mouth down.

It was in that moment that Lance realized—whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter, not really. Or rather, what he wanted was Keith’s pleasure, and if Keith took it through Lance’s own, who was he to argue?

So he came, ripping through his orgasm with Keith’s finger up his ass and his dick in Keith’s mouth, coating the whole thing in enough cum that it dripped from the sides. Dirty erotic, messy sex.

Keith grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long delay. Turns out quitting your job and moving across state lines takes a lot out of you! I hope you enjoy this payoff, and know that there's still more to cum.
> 
> Couldn't help myself.
> 
> Thanks for all the likes, subscribes, and comments! Your feedback makes my day :D


	8. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot heads, warm hearts.

* * *

KEITH

 

Damn, if that wasn’t gratifying.

Keith licked his lips, the salt mixing with the sour tang of sweat and man-ass, the real difference between sleeping with men and women. Women were soft and smelled like ten different kinds of flowers—well, except the women in his regiment, who were rock-hard and smelled like ten different kinds of flowers.

But with men—with men you got the raw, raunchy smells, the good and the bad. Men smelled like people, like earth and sweat and god, did it make him horny when he was in the mood.

And to see Lance’s sated, slick form in front of him, his dick still laid up against his hip, his breathing heavy and eyes fluttered closed—

What was it Matt always said?

—Chef’s kiss.

“Good enough for you?” Keith asked, standing slowly, his knees pinching from kneeling.

Lance opened one eye.

“Y-Yeah, damn, dude.”

Both eyes flicked wide open.

“But I haven’t…you haven’t…”

“Now’s my turn…at least until you recharge.” Keith rattled open the drawer on his bedside table, and grabbed a condom and the nearly-new bottle of lube. He flashed them up, so Lance could see. “Are you cool to be fucked? Or would you rather keep this an above-the-ass thing?”

He’d meant it to sound casual, but the narrowed brows of the other man told him it had maybe come off a bit harsher than he’d meant it. “I mean, I’m totally down with…”

“Look, jerk, you drove all the way to my campus to fuck me, so you’d better make good.”

The words and accompanying glare made Keith blush to his ears.

And sent a lot of feelings straight south.

“ _You’re_ the one who invited _me_ , so you must’ve been thinking about this all last night,” he said, rolling the condom on with shaking hands, even as he tried to keep his cool. “So I might think twice about calling me a jerk.”

“I’ll call you a lot worse if you don’t hurry it up,” Lance said, and Keith watched Lance’s dick jerk as he said it. So he was still horny? Great.

Keith slathered lube over his dick and his fingers, ready to fuck this kid within an inch of his life.

He laid his fingers just under the head of Lance’s cock, sliding it down the under-ridge, over those soft, tense balls, and still on below. He let his fingers do the exploring, keeping his eyes on Lance’s face. Eyes squeezed shut, the other man blushed as Keith rimmed him with a fingerpad, as he again slipped one finger inside. Lance bit his lip, but said nothing as Keith started to slide it in and out, lubing it as best he could.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” Keith asked again, as he slid another finger in. Lance opened his mouth to reply but moaned instead, letting out air like a popped balloon. _He must’ve been holding it in_ , Keith thought, as he wrapped his free hand around his own cock. Moving both hands in time, he watched as Lance relaxed, the seal on his moans broken.

“Y-y—oh, god, yes,” Lance sighed, as Keith curled his fingers just a little, pressure he knew would drive Lance wild. And so it did—Lance bucked his hips into it as Keith slid in a third, widening them, widening _him_.

Because he wanted Lance good and ready for what he was about to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update within a week, hallelujah. I hope you enjoy!! They're just good boys, bront.


	9. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someday Lance will learn that his words will have consequences.

LANCE

Lance had squeezed his eyes so far shut that when Keith entered him, it sent sparks of white lightning shooting fire through the dark expanse of his eyelids, zapping his nervous system from his tip to his temporal lobe, frying all reason and memory from them.

He said something, he wasn’t sure what.

He moaned something, he wasn’t sure how loud.

He gripped sheets he couldn’t feel, tasted impossible sweat.

And then Keith pulled back, and pushed in again, a little farther.

He felt full, felt real, felt flesh and blood so much better than the fakes they sold in stores. The lubed surface of the condom slid seamlessly through him, making it seem so easy, making _him_ seem easy. Feel easy?

Feel good.

There—the comforter was linen, pillowed in his fists, squeezing out between his fingers as he held on, as Keith moved again, again again, stroking near to full.

Whispering encouragement, the words falling on his gooseflesh skin.

He could hear his moans now, unintelligible, loud with every penetration. Sighs and syllables and breath forced from his body as something else came in—as _Keith_ —came in. Keith who? Keith diditreallymatter? Keith whowaswellonhiswaytomakinghimcomeagainand—

“You’re—,” _sigh, huff,_ thrust, “—really fucking hot, you know that?”

Words a complement to his throbbing ears, his beating heart hardly letting other sounds in. They were broken, they were out of commission, filled with drums and the sound of Keith’s strained contained desire, Keith’s breath as he exerted himself.

Lance peeked, opening one eye just as Keith closed his hand around Lance’s hard, so hard too hard please how did I get into this and how can I stay for good, cock. And closed. And gripped.

And stroked.

Lance shut his eyes, squeezing out the image of Keith over him, around him, _in_ him. It was too much, too good.

He didn’t even know this guy yesterday morning.

Keith leaned forward, propping one knee up on the bed to give him a deeper angle, and Lance’s breath hitched. He was having trouble keeping it all together. And here he’d meant to sweep that stranger off his feet, to put on the moves, to be wiping that smirk off his face with orgasm after orgasm, and instead here he was on his back the whole time getting orgasms milked out of him.

He had to do something.

He pitched up on his elbows, the tight pull in his abdomen a less immediate discomfort than the sudden pain in his head where he and Keith had collided—Keith had leaned forward to kiss Lance, who now held his own head, hand covering one eye.

The other one was narrowed.

“No apologies, asshat?” Lance said, echoing Keith’s words from the night before.

He only realized he shouldn’t have said it when that eye narrowed even more.

And only realized how truly fucked he was when a smirk spread across Keith’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, turns out moving across the country, immediately starting a new job, and getting sick all in the span of three weeks takes a toll on your fanfic-posting abilities. I'm fine now, though, and I should be able to wrap this up in short order! Thanks as always for your kudos and comments!


	10. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends.

* * *

 

KEITH 

_This fucking kid_.

He captured Lance’s mouth with a kiss and used it to push him down, leveraging the leg hooked over his right shoulder to tilt Lance’s pelvis up, to make him wide and open and available.

To see him start to worry about where his sass had landed him, even as his cock betrayed his excitement.

Keith had had his own sass beaten well and truly out of him by years at the military academy…or, well, he’d learned the consequences of his sass, and now used it judiciously. This kid just couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut.

And Keith would take his delicious time teaching him the consequences.

He pulled his hips back, almost near enough to slide out, but letting the head of his dick sit heavy for a long few moments before sliding it back in, achingly slow, keeping the friction agonizing. Lance squirmed into his mouth but Keith just shifted his weight, pushing Lance into the bed but not painfully so.

And thrust again.

When Lance cried out and gasped against him, when Keith released him for breath and he came apart as he inhaled, his breath gutteral; as Keith nipped his neck just under the jaw, where the skin was sensitive and stubbled, he had a flash of fantasy—of Shiro, coming apart beneath him in the same way. A long-coveted dream, of taking his superior, his mentor, and making him whine like this, the big muscles in his arms twitching as his body started to spasm with the deliberate pleasure.

But Shiro had made it clear that he was a brother, not anything more.

And even with the years-lost angst of a crush close-kept, Keith himself wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted anymore, either.

After all, what could be sweeter than this? A cocky guy with his ass in the air and his dick smearing pre-cum across his taut belly, his dark cheeks flushed and heavy-lidded eyes begging for more?

Keith kissed him again; pure. Lips to lips, sweet, chapped skin on chapped, chaste as May.

And then started to fuck him within an inch of his life.

It wasn’t at pace, no crazy speed. This wasn’t a fuck to get off, not anymore. Keith wanted Lance to feel this, to _remember_ this. To call for him every time he did his stupid radio show—well, he didn’t _actually_ want that, it’d be embarrassing as hell. But he wanted him to squirm in the DJ chair, to be staring at his phone and wondering if Keith was thinking of him, wondering what Keith looked like at drills or in the gym or in the shower or with Lance’s lips around his…

“F-Fuck!” Lance moaned, the word caught in his throat as he grabbed the pillow behind him. As Keith entered him again and again, with intent, with precision and thrust, with only just enough force. Building that rhythm, keeping himself in check, which became increasingly hard as Lance bit his lip, his fist, the pillow, anything to keep him grounded.

Keith had had sex in his life, but nothing like this—nothing that had made him want to discover the myriad ways his partner would fall apart around him.

For a second, he wondered what the retribution would be like, what would happen if… _when_ Lance fucked him.

He bit his own lip.

He tried to find the control after that, tried to maintain the rhythm and build to a climax for the both of them but he was there, already there, undone by the image of the other man’s hands on Keith’s hips, of his expression as he fucked into him, unsteady and full of youthful vigor, his only understanding of his cock as something to use fast and hard until orgasm came, explosive. To be pinned under Lance, chest on the bed, moaning into the comforter, so Shiro couldn’t hear, even if he were at the military academy a mile and a half away. To be fucked hard and raw by a kid who was all rough edges, who had come undone beneath him today.

And so Keith came, a hard spurt torn form him before he was ready, then two, three more. He grabbed Lance’s dick harder than he might have usually and tugged him to orgasm, an operation that happened in short order.

He pulled out when he could, when his shaking arms allowed him to push up and away, when he could slide out slowly without making too much of a mess. He didn’t even bother taking off the condom before rolling onto his back beside Lance, utterly spent and utterly pleased.

They both stared at the ceiling, panting.

Then Lance turned, and Keith turned to meet him.

Both parties smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry! I'm posting the epilogue right now, too ;)


	11. Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)

* * *

SHIRO

“So I guess Keith has been seeing this therapist…,” Shiro said, as Matt handed him his mocha cookie crumble frappuchino (he’d endured more than his fair share of heckling when he’d ordered it, but c’mon, it was _good_ ) and they peeled out of the Starbucks next to base. He frowned, cradling the too-cold drink in his hands, resisting the urge to hold it to his cheeks and sweaty neck on the hottest day they’d had all year.

“And?” Matt said, taking an obnoxiously loud sip of his own drink.

“I just… well, is it normal for a shrink to visit their patient’s home?”

Shiro had been expecting one of two reactions, and this was the second: uproarious laughter.

“Lemme guess: his shrink’s name is Lance?” Matt said, wiping a tear from under his shades. Shiro nodded, sighing internally, but with a good natured grin for Matt. He knew he could count on Matt to know what was really going on. “Well, fear a breach of ethics no longer—Lance’s his fuck-buddy, not his doctor, unless they play doctor in bed. I ran into them on a rendezvous at the Dutch the other day, and begged Keith to introduce me.”

Shiro was sure Matt’s begging had been both earnest and unwanted, and rolled his eyes. “You’re sure?”

“The kid’s gotta be just over 21, certainly not outta college. Around Keith’s age, if that eases your overburdened mind.”

“It does,” Shiro said, and sighed, a lopsided grin easing onto his lips. He’d been worried the other night when he’d heard the unmistakable sounds of sex from the other room, of a name called that Shiro hadn’t heard before. Ever since he’d walked in to find Keith in an uncharacteristic panic, with those two helmets in the living room.

And he knew exactly why Keith might have a hard time being up front with him.

They walked along, Matt easing his chuckles away behind sips of coffee. They meandered across the big intersection, the pavement and motors radiating summer heat, and were almost to the base when Matt started up again, nudging Shiro with his elbow.

“You know, I’m licensed to play Doctor, too.”

Shiro kept quiet a long moment, reveling in the way he could make Matt uneasy. Unlike his other admirers, Shiro had always kept Matt at arm’s length, and Matt would only pursue him all the more.

He’d miss that.

“How soon can you fit me in?”

He left Matt in the dust, stunned face slack beneath his cool Ray Bans.

What was it Matt always said?

Oh, right.

—Chef’s kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so awesome, everyone! I had fun writing this little piece, and I'm so glad it was so well-received. Thanks too (as always) for the kudos, comments, and subscriptions!


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